“Here stood the oak-tree on which an arrow, shot by Sir Walter Tyrrel at a stag, glanced and struck King William II., surnamed Rufus, on the breast; of which stroke he instantly died, on the 2nd of August, 1100.
“King William II., surnamed Rufus, being slain, as before related, was laid in a cart belonging to one Purkess, and drawn from hence to Winchester, and buried in the cathedral church of that city.
“That where an event so memorable had happened might not hereafter be unknown, this stone was set up by John Lord Delaware, who had seen the tree growing in this place, anno 1745.”
Stony Cross is a favourite spot for pic-nic parties in the summer. It lies seven miles from Ringwood, on a wide slope among the woods. From the road above, splendid views over the country present themselves.
[Illustration: STONY CROSS, NEW FOREST.]
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[Illustration: Letter T.]
The spearman heard the bugle
And cheerily smiled the morn;
And many a brach, and many a hound,
Attend Llewellyn’s horn.
And still he blew a louder
And gave a louder cheer:
“Come, Gelert! why art thou the last
Llewellyn’s horn to hear?
“Oh, where does faithful
The flower of all his race!
So true, so brave—a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase?”
That day Llewellyn little
The chase of hart or hare;
And scant and small the booty proved,
For Gelert was not there.
Unpleased Llewellyn homeward
When, near the portal-seat,
His truant Gelert he espied,
Bounding his lord to greet.
But when he gained the castle-door,
Aghast the chieftain stood;
The hound was smear’d with gouts of gore—
His lips and fangs ran blood!
Llewellyn gazed with wild
Unused such looks to meet;
His favourite check’d his joyful guise,
And crouch’d and lick’d his feet.
Onward in haste Llewellyn
(And on went Gelert too),
And still where’er his eyes were cast,
Fresh blood-gouts shock’d his view!
infant’s bed he found,
The blood-stain’d cover rent,
And all around the walls and ground
With recent blood besprent.
He call’d his child—no
He search’d—with terror wild;
Blood! blood! he found on every side,
But nowhere found the child!
“Hell-hound! by thee
my child’s devour’d!”
The frantic father cried,
And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plunged in Gelert’s side!
His suppliant, as to earth
No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert’s dying yell
Pass’d heavy o’er his heart.